


See Me Bare My Teeth For You

by Anonymous



Category: HLVRAI - Fandom, Half Life VR But The AI Is Self Aware
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, depictions of violence and breakdown, gordon is fucked up and its not just because of black mesa, its not that deep but i like to pretend it is, unrequited pining but its not what you think it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28932522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Gordon has a lot of unresolved issues. Surprisingly enough these issues reared their ugly heads long before the Black Mesa incident, but the added trauma sure didn't help.It's easy to blame everyone else, but for how long can you keep up the barriers until you push everyone you love away?And what happens when the personification of everything that's mentally wrong with you appears in your life and forces you to face yourself?In other words: It's Not That Deep But I Like To Pretend It Is.Also this is my first ever written work... wowie... it's a bit shit but i've been writing to Cope and thought i might as well put it out there. Hate it or love it... hahh...
Relationships: Benrey/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Prologue - Nurture or Nature

**Author's Note:**

> Might as well put a violence and depiction of breakdown warning in the beginning of this whole thing hahahhh...

Something is blocking his vision. 

Almost as if the rushing in his ears is causing the view in front of him, _below him_ , to be a blurry mess of colors and shapes. 

Like the few moments before you pass out where all sound is muffled and warped, adding to the surrealism of it all. 

He’s not screaming, but he wants to as he feels his heart beat hard and uncomfortably in his chest, spreading the feeling of pure _rage_ with his hot blood through his body and straight to his head. 

Muscles are moving on their own and his face is contorted in silent grimace as he’s running his hand over the other kid’s ugly screaming face. 

As quickly as he lost control, he blinks a few times and regains it again when the kid under him is suddenly gone.  
Must’ve wiggled free while he was out of it. 

He feels something on his fingertip.   
It’s a firm pressure, something is stuck under there and he looks down at his hands.   
A thick and long strip of pale skin is folded under his nail.   
It springs out and falls to the ground when he pulls back at his fingertip with his thumb. 

He mutters a quiet “Ew...”. 

**-**

Something is blocking Gordon’s vision. 

The rushing in his ears is causing the view in front of him, _below him_ , to be a blurry mess of colors and shapes.

He knows he’s lost control. It has happened so many times before, yet it’s still as hard for him to snap out of it. 

It’s like something else, _his own anger_ , is taking control and he’s forced to watch helplessly as his body moves on its own with the intention of causing as much damage to another living thing as possible. 

It still feels as surreal as all the other times this has happened, but just like every other time, it’s very real. The consequences are very real. 

His face is carrying a silent grimace as he brings the crowbar down to the guard’s face again and again and again. 

The only difference is that this time, the person below him is just as silent as he is. 

Not that he would’ve noticed in his blinded and deafened state anyway. 

He’s clutching the guard’s shirt collar so hard in his hand his knuckles turn pale and each swing of the metal object carries all of his strength. All of his anger.   
Not a single fibre of his body is holding back. 

He doesn’t even remember what made him snap in the first place, he isn’t thinking about anything right now. He can’t think about anything right now.   
It’s all just dark and blurry. A mess.

“Gordon-“ 

The voice is slightly garbled, like someone who had just been doused in water is trying to speak through the pour. 

He stops mid-swing, looking for the source of the sound. 

Looking _down_ at the source.   
His vision has slowly cleared, but the rushing in his ears still prevails. 

The guard below him looks almost unrecognizable. 

Dark red blood is pouring down his face in streams from deep gashes in his head.   
One eye is puffed up and half closed, with the normal white color of the eye turned into a red hue as well. 

Gordon doesn’t feel guilt yet. His brain is still too foggy to feel anything.   
He just stares down at the mess he’s made with no emotion and no remorse to be spotted in his cold and hard gaze. 

Crowbar still hovering above his head. 

The mess coughs and spits out a few teeth with a spurt of blood. It all starts to pool below his head. Thick and sticky. 

So much red. 

“I think I got the message,” 

His one good eye stares into Gordon’s increasingly bewildered face as he progressively starts to regain himself. 

He scrambles off of the guard like he’s the one who’s just been hurt, continuing backwards until his back hits a wall, pulling his knees up to his face, not unlike a scared child. 

Guilt starts to wash over him and he feels _embarrassment_ mixed sourly with it. 

He had snapped again. 

He’s made no progress at all since he was a brainless kid, unable to control himself and his emotions. A danger to everyone he loves.

It didn’t fucking matter how much he tried to _work on himself_ , at his core he’s still a ticking bomb. 

Tears start to force their way down his face, leaving a wet and itchy trail on his hot flushed skin.   
He’s crying, which is also not unlike a child. 

He’s angry at himself and feels like throwing up. Head hurts. 

The guard stays on the floor for a good bit, before sitting up and wiping his face with his hands.   
He looks down at his own blood on the cold pale hands and frowns a bit. 

That is all. 

He then stands up like he had simply just tripped and dusts his uniform off. 

He looks in Gordon’s direction for a second, expression completely flat and neutral under the red stains, before walking off wordlessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a prologue to sorta set the tone? i guess.. it's sorta short and wasn't meant for a continuing thing, it was just a little coping thing i wrote ... more chapters are to come though


	2. Good To See You Again(?)

One of his teeth is loose.

Gordon feels his tongue constantly poke and prod at it, each little push making it wiggle more, getting it closer to what’s inevitable.

His tongue gets replaced by a finger. Then two fingers.  
They pinch the smooth little piece of bone between them, pulling and twisting it.

He can taste iron on his tongue now. He wants to stop. He wants to leave it, but he can’t. His hands are moving on their own.

The tooth is eventually in his hand. The spot where it used to be is now just a hole dripping dark blood onto his tongue.

The feeling of something missing grows in his chest him and soon he feels another one getting loose, next to the empty space.

He pulls at it too. It comes out much faster than the first one. Then another. Then one more. He’s swallowing gulps of blood now.

He tries to shove the milky teeth back into their respective bloody holes, but they worthlessly fall back onto his tongue when he tries to close his mouth in an attempt to pretend nothing is wrong.

He should be scared. He should be panicked. But he doesn’t feel anything at all.

And then Gordon wakes up.

He stares up at the ceiling, his vision still blurry from sleep and the usual consequence of not wearing his boxy glasses.

After yawning and rubbing his tired and itchy eyes, he swallows a large amount of spit that had been pooling in his mouth and at the back of his throat and then reaches for his glasses, slipping them on and blinking a couple times to get used to the improved vision.

Now you just gotta get up.

Getting out of bed is a battle every day, even if he can afford sleeping till noon.

He has a PH.D. at MIT. He can get pretty much any job he wants. He wants a minimum wage job at a grocery store.

At least for now.  
The whole Black Mesa incident had left scars on both his body and his soul and he’s not too keen on working with anything that requires him to actually think anytime soon.  
Being able to zone out at work is nice, and he does it a lot.

While brushing his teeth he remembers his dream.

He furrows his brow in thought for a moment and then spits and rinses. He’s had that dream four times in a row now.

Gordon is in no way a superstitious person, but there comes a point where any person gets a little nervous, especially considering what he has been through.

He pulls his phone out of the pocket of his pyjama pants.

 _What does it mean when you dream about your teeth falling out and bleeding?._  
He squints at the little words on the screen and scoffs slightly, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Bullshit.

He doesn’t know what he had expected.

Locking the door behind him as he leaves, he hums a song in his head.  
This time it’s the melody of London Bridge Is Falling Down, or whatever it’s called. It’s been played in quite a few TV-shows, so he knows it just from that alone.  
It probably means something, but Gordon was never good at symbolism.

That’s a trick he had seen on some science show years ago. Humming a different song in your head every time you do something you struggle with remembering later.

He’s not sure if it actually works or if he just thinks it works, but it has saved him a lot of trouble worrying about whether or not he locked his apartment door, so he supposes it works as intended.

He gets into his shitty car and drives to work. It’s muscle memory, at this point.

Gordon works the evening shift.  
He used to work a normal 9 - 5, but he found it increasingly hard getting up in the morning and eventually had to beg for a schedule change.

He got it without much issue.  
Being overqualified and all that, they were probably afraid of losing him.

This works much better for him, even if it means he gets home late and exhausted.  
It even helps him fall asleep.

His shift is as usual uneventful, spent mainly zoning out while refilling shelves and bagging groceries.  
Though, he has one encounter that snaps him out of his trance for a moment.

He’s bagging a customer's groceries. He has learned not to pay much mind to whatever people are purchasing, it’s none of his business anyway, besides, the groceries aren’t what catch Gordon’s attention.

He speaks his practiced-through-repetition “Have a nice day!” and expects the customer to be on their way, except they aren’t.

He looks up at them and jolts a little when he sees the person stare at him with an unsettling and unblinking gaze.  
They’re wearing an oversized hoodie that’s full of holes, with the hood pulled tightly up over their head.  
It looks unnaturally big and blocky, like they’re wearing a bicycle helmet underneath it.

A face mask is covering half of their face, the fabric is pulsating with each breath the wearer takes and their eyes are peering at him above it, a dull grey color and slightly bloodshot.

“Erm…”

He feels his hands get clammy. Great, another weirdo at work.

“Do you need further assistance…?”

He talks quietly and slowly, like he’s handling an animal that might get startled by a sudden noise. He learned that during introduction week.

The person finally blinks.

“Huh…? Yes- no,”

Their voice is flat and monotone and sounds like it hasn’t been used in a while. The volume of it being just a little too loud and a little gravelly.

They suddenly lunge their hands forward towards Gordon, whiffing past him by an inch as they grab their bagged groceries without breaking eye contact and then they hurry towards the exit.  
Their posture is hunched over and strange, as if they’re focusing way too much on the way they walk.

Hm. Weird.

Gordon starts to get fidgety towards the end of his shift. As the night progresses, less and less customers come in and he starts to run out of things to keep himself occupied with.

He doesn’t pay any further mind to the weird encounter he had earlier.  
Plenty of weird folks come in, it’s nothing unusual to him.

The rest of the evening he can’t shake an unpleasant feeling swelling inside of him that he can’t quite pinpoint, though.  
It’s probably just some post traumatic stress thing. Probably.

When the end of his shift and the time to clock out finally comes, he takes a deep breath and sighs heavily. He feels like he’s somehow been holding his breath all night.

It’s 11PM and the sun has gone down hours ago, but as with everything else, driving home in the dark is a habit at this point.  
He fought and survived an alien invasion, for Christ’s sake, what's he got to be afraid of on the same old boring streets he grew up on?

A lot apparently, because paranoia is creeping up on him as soon as he exits the back door and walks to the parking lot.

It doesn’t help that he apparently forgot to lock his car, which he swore he had hummed a tune to earlier.  
It was the McDonald’s jingle. He remembers that specifically because it made him crave cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets.

After doing a quick scan to make sure nothing is missing and in relief concluding that he’s got all the stuff he at least remembers having, he turns the key and drives out of the parking lot, ready to go home and sleep.

Just like he did yesterday and just like he will again tomorrow.

The trip home went as effortlessly as you can expect. He ends up zoning out most of the drive and is a little surprised when he already spots the street he lives on.

Muscle memory. Everything is muscle memory at this point.

He pulls into the parking spot in front of his apartment sighs deeply as the breath gets caught in his throat, when he suddenly hears rustling behind him and feels a cold object get held firmly against his throat.

He sits completely still.

Frozen as the realization of what is happening hasn’t hit him completely yet.  
Until it does.

Panic starts to grip at him. He eyes the rear-view mirror to get a glimpse of his attacker, but they’re just out of view.

“P-please…” He stutters helplessly.

“HEHAHAHA- I got you Feetman!”

The tone of the voice behind him is teasing like a preschool bully and it’s oh so familiar.

Images of gunfire and rusty bloodsplatters start to flash through his mind. Images connected to _fear_ and _anger_.

“I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOOUU!!”

The assaulter laughs, and even though Gordon can’t see him, he knows exactly what he looks like.

At first he’s angry. He’s so fucking angry, but then he realizes the situation he’s in.  
Benrey has a knife to his fucking throat. His life is at Benrey’s mercy. And then he gets so fucking scared.

Gordon knows what the security guard is capable of. He knows he should be scared in this moment.

“Benrey…”

He swallows hard. His throat flexing under the blade, as tears prick behind his eyes, making his vision blurry before he blinks them out.

“Benrey, please…”

He’s pleading at Benrey. Out of all people you could be begging for mercy, Benrey is probably the scariest one. Does the man even feel empathy?

“Holy shit?! Are you crying, dude? Holy fucking SHIT, HEHAH-“

He feels the metal object quickly get removed from his throat and Benrey finally appears in the rear-view mirror.  
Gordon looks at him wordlessly.

“Chill out man, Jesus Christ. Are you a- a fucking baby-?”

Benrey continues to laugh teasingly, as if Gordon had overreacted.

Gordon is no longer afraid.

His hands begin to shake and his heart beats with something else than fear now.  
Seething with anger he jumps out of his car in a quick motion and throws the backseat door open.

He pulls Benrey out, gripping the front of his hoodie as he slams him against the side of his car hard enough to force an “Oof-“ out of the shorter man.

There’s a rushing in his ears and his vision starts to get unfocused. The world closes in around him.  
His body gets much too small for him.

His face contorts into a silent grimace.

“Gordon-“

The voice is uncharacteristically panicked, like a worried parent shouting at a kid before they’re about to potentially hurt themself.

He sees the source of the voice as his vision clears. Eyes that look almost scared are peering back into his own.

It’s Benrey.

He’s gripping Gordon’s wrist so hard it hurts.  
His own hand is clutching a knife in its grasp, hard enough for his knuckles to have turned pale.

The blade is only a few inches from Benrey’s chest.

Gordon drops it immediately.

The clanging of metal hitting the pavement echoes in his ears and the world seems to freeze around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is all a bit all over the place, i'm still trying to find my writing style... the next chapters should be more cohesive (hopefully)
> 
> In case you're wondering what Gordon read about his dream, here's what shows up when you google it: ''As in the standard dream interpretation of teeth falling out, this represents a loss. However, there is a more specific meaning in the case of blood loss. A dream of losing a tooth with blood represents an attack on the soul. This is a demonic attack, or some kind of spiritual (aka psychic) attack''  
> Symbolism? Maybe ... 
> 
> oh also! I don't have social media since i wanna distance myself from all that, but if you got anything you wanna show me, feel free to leave a comment with a link or something!! i read all comments :)


	3. Assessing The Damage

“Uhh… hahah- are you gonna let go, sir?”

It takes Gordon a while to process what’s being said to him. The words seem to bounce around uselessly in his otherwise, at least at the moment, empty head.   
He looks down at his hand that’s still clutching Benrey’s hoodie and at the pale clammy hand wrapped around its wrist. The grip around it seems to have loosened a bit. 

Gordon then looks back up at the man in front of him, his face contorted into something wild and panicked when he finally speaks. 

“Wh- what…?” 

He furrows his brow as his brain desperately tries to make sense of the situation. Scrambling for proof that reality is not what it seems to be in this moment. Each breath hurts his lungs and he feels increasingly more and more dizzy. 

“Ya got my shirt pretty tightly there,” 

Benrey gestures with his free hand to Gordon’s grip holding him against the car.   
His face has dropped back into his usual expressionless demeanor and his voice carries that slightly teasing undertone, like this is just a funny joke. A prank.

Gordon lets go of him with a start. Withdrawing his hand quickly and holding it tightly against his chest with his other hand, as if Benrey had just burnt him. 

And like if a flip had just been switched, his seemingly devoid of thoughts head, suddenly gets very loud.   
Thoughts are swirling in and out of his mind, the first one being replaced by the next one and then another one. They send him spiraling as he grips his hair and stares down at his feet. Eyes wide and scared. 

Oh god, he had almost stabbed him. Straight through the chest. Sure he had killed him before, but that was different. This is different. Right? It’s still Benrey. Maybe he should have stabbed him? Is Benrey going to kill him now? He’s otherwise defenseless, Benrey could kill him right where he stands. He held a fucking knife to his throat. But Gordon doesn’t even remember taking the knife from him. Could he really have killed someone while he was out of it? What happens next time when-

“Dude, you’re freaking out,” 

He jolts when Benrey suddenly speaks up again.   
He had picked the knife off of the pavement while Gordon was still spiraling and now he’s folding it in on itself and putting it into the pocket of his dirty slacks. 

He’s staring back up at Gordon, expression hard to read with the hood still pulled up over his head. 

“Benrey?” 

Gordon focuses on him. Focuses on Benrey and oh man, he suddenly remembers exactly why he had freaked out in the first place. His brain slowly catching up with the situation, he lets go of his hair and takes a deep breath. Though, not the calming kind of deep breath. No. Gordon is _furious_. 

“Benrey. Benrey, what the FUCK-“ 

Is all he manages to get out at first. Another deep breath. 

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT? DID YOU JUST TRY TO FUCKING KILL ME?! WHAT-”

Gordon is shouting a bit louder than he should be shouting outside, especially on this hour, but he is nowhere in a place to even _think_ about other people right now. 

“Man, shhh-“ 

Benrey dramatically brings his hands up to either side of his head as if he’s covering his ears, though they appear to hit something hard under his hood. 

“Chill out. Why so serious? Hahah ‘s just a prank,” 

He looks like he’s bored with Gordon’s reaction, shrugging as he halfheartedly explains himself. 

“Just like old times ya’ know? Like, blah blah blah I’ll kill yooouu!” 

Gordon can’t do anything but stare at him in disbelief. He wrings his hands in frustration towards Benrey. 

“You- you thought jumping me, holding a knife up to my throat was a joke?”

He laughs a bit too hard, almost maniacally. 

“Hahah? Are you sick? Are you actually fucking sick?! There- There has to be something deeply fucking wrong with you-“

As if Gordon didn’t already know that from past experiences with Benrey. He stumbles backwards a bit, in utter disbelief.

Benrey, who’s leaned casually against Gordon’s car, shrugs again while looking a bit to the side. 

“I dunno man, why did _you_ try to kill _me_ ,” 

He has that accusatory tone he used in Black Mesa when he accused Gordon of stealing or shooting at him. 

“I- you-“ Gordon stumbles for words. “No, no, fucking DON’T turn this around on me! You held a knife to my fucking THROAT.” 

He barks out the words, clenching his hands into fists. They’re shaking a bit. 

“What are you even doing here? Did you fucking hide in my car? Oh God, were you there the entire time-“ 

Gordon shakes his head frustratedly. Something is growing inside of him, triggered by Benrey’s seeming apathy towards everything that’s happening right now. If he isn’t careful he’ll snap again. 

“Just FUCKING LEAVE-“ 

Benrey returns Gordon’s fierce stare with something else than rage. Gordon can’t exactly pinpoint it, but to be fair he never has any idea what the fuck is going on inside of Benrey’s head.   
But Benrey is staring very intensely at Gordon. His eyes sometimes darting to his shaking fists and heaving chest. 

He presses his lips into a thin line and shrugs lazily again. 

“Alright,” 

And then he walks off. 

He brushes past Gordon and walks down the street casually, with his hands in his pockets and without looking back.   
Gordon is left dumbfounded and alone on the side of the street. 

He had really _not_ expected that to work and he even stays out there for a few minutes after Benrey’s out of sight. Just making sure…  
Okay. He lets out the breath he had been holding and runs his hand through his hair. 

What the fuck was that?

Gordon honestly isn’t super surprised that Benrey is still alive. To be fair, the bastard had died at least 5 times at Black Mesa.  
And he should have expected he would show up eventually, right?   
Not really. He had been too busy getting his life back on track and distracting himself that he hadn’t really spared anyone from The Science Team a thought, much less fucking _Benrey_. 

He braces himself and cautiously walks up to his apartment door and unlocks it while glancing over his shoulder. Still no sight of Benrey. Good. He really doesn’t want the guard to know which apartment belongs to him. 

Rushing inside, he makes sure to lock the door immediately. No tune this time. He doesn’t need it right now. 

Silence surrounds him as he stands by the door for a few minutes. It takes him a while to feel safe enough to leave it while his heart is hammering in his chest and his breath is unsteady. 

Get it together Gordon, it’s just a dude. 

_Yeah, a dude who’s perfectly capable of torturing and killing you._

His right arm starts to ache around the ring of scar tissue that exists as proof that his hand had ever been missing in the first place, even after G-Man had somehow ‘reattached’ it before the party.   
It still feels weird and alien, like it doesn’t really belong to him anymore. 

Cursing under his breath, Gordon manages to force himself away from the door and into his little kitchen.   
Just like the rest of his apartment, it’s _bare essentials._ Only containing whatever he needs to survive and nothing else.  
He doesn’t even own a kitchen table, but it’s not like he ever has guests over or anything anyway. No need for one. 

Food. Should he eat? Honestly, he feels fucking sick to his stomach. Even the thought of food makes him want to throw up, but he hasn’t eaten all day.   
The whole stress thing had made him cut down from three meals a day, to just one before bed. It’s not healthy, he’s very much aware of that, but there’s only so much you can have the energy to get done after a life threatening and traumatic event. 

He settles on a bit of cereal after going back and forth with himself.  
Some Mini Wheats should be relatively easy to get down. He can even eat in front of his TV to distract himself. Yeah… yeah he’s gonna be okay. 

Walking past his door with the bowl of cereal in hand, he double-checks the lock and- yep, still locked. Nothing to worry about. Calm down, Gordon. 

The couch creaks slightly when he sits down on it, it’s old, and he pulls up one of the many cooking shows he enjoys watching on the TV.   
The Great Bake-off is the choice of the night.   
Gordon doesn’t particularly like baking or cooking, but he enjoys the process of watching other people do it.   
It lets him turn his brain off and not worry about anything other than whether or not his favorite contestants can manage to get their mousses to settle in time. 

Getting some food in his system does admittedly also help. Paired with the distraction, he starts to fall back into his usual _‘on-alert-but-relaxed-enough-to-breathe-normally’_ state. It’s as good as it gets, really. 

He clicks quietly with his fidget toy - a peanut shaped little thing that’s supposed to represent a game controller, it has a joystick and everything - and watches his episode until the end, frowning a bit when his favorite contestant of the season is kicked off of the show. Something about ‘lacking skill on the finish’.   
Man, who cares, as long as the cake tastes good. 

With a grunt he stands up, stretching his aching back and shoulder before making his way to his bathroom.  
He had been waiting a bit too long to get up, and now he _really_ needs to take a fucking leak. 

Sighing and with slow lazy movements, he unbuckles his belt and manages to pull his pants and underwear halfway down in a single motion, when something catches the corner of his eye. 

He jolts and falls backwards when he sees a _face_ pressed against the bathroom window. 

Hitting the tile floor hard with his tailbone he winces in pain, while staring up at the window with wide startled eyes. 

The face is pale, with huge dark eyes fixed on him. Their lips are chapped and slightly parted, covering half of the glass with fog. 

Is that… Benrey?   
It is! It’s fucking _Benrey_ , ogling at him through his bathroom window, two stories up- wait. 

He’s two stories up. 

He appears to have climbed up and is now clutching with all of his might to the side of the building. Jesus Christ. 

“BENREY-“ 

Gordon shouts as he clamors to his feet, pulling his pants up in the process and Benrey’s eyes definitely dart to his crotch, not even attempting to hide it. The man outside the window seems to be frowning at the sight. 

As he has his pants fully pulled up, he for a moment considers opening the window and pushing Benrey off of the building, but that seems a bit extreme… or does it? Plan B, maybe. 

“GET THE FUCK AWAY!” 

“No! There’s something wrong with you-“ 

The guard shouts back through the glass, fogging it up further. 

What? What the hell is he talking about?

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! JUST FUCK OFF, _PLEASE-“_

He gets interrupted by a scratching noise, as Benrey pushes his fingers into the little gap Gordon had left open for air ventilation, and rips the window open, breaking the lock that kept it semi-closed. 

“NO-“

Is all Gordon manages to shout as Benrey comes crashing through his window, landing face-first into the edge of the bathtub. 

an uncomfortable crunching noise fills the room when his face impacts with the ceramic side of it.   
Gordon winces. 

It takes Benrey a bit to stumble awkwardly to his feet.   
He’s bleeding heavily out of his mouth and a little _tink_ can be heard when a piece of a tooth hits the bottom of the tub. He looks like absolute shit, but he got inside. 

Inside of Gordon’s bathroom. 

Gordon is mad at first. Furious.   
But then another drop of blood hits his floor. And then another one. And one more.   
Until a constant stream of red is pouring from Benrey’s lips. 

He’s staring back at Gordon like nothing is wrong. He looks fucking insane like this, Gordon thinks to himself.   
It reminds him a bit of that one time he… 

He swallows roughly when the memory of towering over a bloodied Benrey, crowbar in hand, creeps into his brain.  
He shakes his head to force the image out. 

“Christ, dude-“ 

He approaches him slowly, bringing his hands up to Benrey’s face to assess the damage. 

This was a mistake, because as soon as he gets close to his face, Benrey jolts backwards, slipping on his own pool of blood and hitting the edge of the tub once again.   
This time the back of his head makes a loud THUNK on impact. 

Benrey whines quietly and doesn’t try to get up anymore. 

Even if he’s wearing his helmet under his hood, that still has to hurt like fucking hell.   
Gordon grimaces. Both from sympathy but also from remorse. He didn’t mean for Benrey to get beat up like that.   
He looks absolutely pathetic like this. 

Gordon kneels in front of him.   
He’s acting more on ‘critical situation instinct’ than anything else right now. He doesn’t really have time to think about exactly who he’s dealing with right now. 

“Fuck. Hey, c’mere…” 

He scoots a little closer. 

“Lemme see,” 

Benrey brings his hands to his head, pressing his helmet down further over his head, though still obscured by the hood of his hoodie. 

“Nuh-uh, there’s something wrong with you. I gotta- i gotta make sure you’re okay,” 

His voice is slightly higher pitched than usual. Almost panicky, Gordon notices. 

“What are you talking about, dude? There’s nothing wrong with me, you’re the one fucking bleeding on my bathroom floor.” 

He gestures to the pool of blood, now smeared messily across the tiles.   
Benrey follows with his eyes, only to squint them shut and shake his head. 

“Gotta fix you. You’re not right. Gordon- Gordon Wrongman,” 

Gordon stares at Benrey in disbelief for the second time tonight, but this time the situation has him a lot calmer. It certainly helps that the shorter man absolutely does not look like a threat of any kind in this state. 

While he has no idea what the hell he is babbling about, Gordon knows that there are more pressing matters at hand. He can’t have Benrey sitting here bleeding on his fucking bathroom floor. Almost anything would be better than this, honestly. 

He sighs. How about a trade? That would only be fair he supposes. Can’t really expect anything in life without giving something in return, or whatever. 

“Listen-“

Gordon begins slowly, trying to catch Benrey’s eyes. 

“How about… we talk about whatever the fuck you’re trying to get at in the morning? After I’ve had a look at you to make sure you’re not like… dying,” 

He extends his hand slightly forward, trying to communicate that this was a proposition.   
Equal exchange? 

“The morning…?”

Benrey parrots. 

“Yeah, I can’t- I can’t deal with all _this_ tonight dude. No more, please, I’m tired. I’ll help you out in the morning, IF- you let me check out your head and face.”

He seems to perk up at that. A grin forms on his face that makes more blood pour out over his clothes. Gross. 

“Y’wanna check out my face, huh?” 

The teasing undertone returns to his voice, which makes him just a little bit more recognizable.   
Gordon shakes his head and scoffs, trying to force the smile off of his lips.  
He supposes that means he agreed to the deal. 

“Whatever. Open your mouth.”

Gordon commands as he leans closer. 

“Yessir-“

And Benrey obeys, opening his mouth as much as humanly(?) possible, while Gordon assesses the damage. 

It’s hard to see anything with all that blood, but the deep gash in his tongue is pretty visible nonetheless and the broken front tooth isn’t subtle either. Damn.   
Can Benrey regrow teeth?   
He did the time with the… with the crowbar… 

Gordon shudders from the memory once again and forces it back, trying to stay determined on the task at hand. 

“It looks nasty, I’m not gonna lie.”

He leans back, letting Benrey know he can close his mouth again. 

“I don’t think it’ll kill you though, I just hope the bleeding is gonna stop soon.” 

“Uhuh,” 

Benrey seems like he couldn’t care less. It makes Gordon tick just a bit, but he shakes it off. No reason to get mad now. Just focus. 

Well, there’s plenty of reason to get mad now, but whatever. Later. 

“I need to look at the back of your head.” 

Gordon’s voice is stern. It’s not a suggestion and he wants to make that clear.   
Benrey grabs at his helmet again, frowning hard. 

“You prommy you’ll let me fix you in the morning?” 

He looks up at Gordon, his gaze suddenly serious, like it’s a question that could determine life or death.   
Gordon rolls his eyes. 

“Yeah, fucking- I promise we’ll _talk about it_ in the morning.”

No need to give promises he can’t keep. 

Benrey furrows his brow, Gordon thinks so at least, it’s hard to tell under there, and pulls the hood off revealing his helmet.   
He slowly unbuckles the strap under his chin and pulls it off almost gingerly.   
He’s avoiding eye contact completely now. 

Gordon guesses it’s some comfort thing. Maybe he feels vulnerable or something.   
Serves him right. Gordon feels vulnerable too, so it’s only fair. 

He doesn’t know what he had honestly expected Benrey to look like without his helmet. He had never really thought about it.   
It wasn’t this, that’s for sure. 

He has the unkempt sort of accidental mullet that occurs when someone has gone a long time without a haircut, just stopping where his helmet would naturally cover it anyway.   
It’s black and makes his skin look even paler in comparison.   
This close, Gordon notices his stubble too. It’s kind of spotty and even if Benrey tried to grow a beard, it’s obvious he wouldn’t be able to. 

Gordon doesn’t comment on any of this. He just leans over and feels on the back of his head.  
His hair is extremely greasy, and a nasty smell wafts off of him.   
Jesus Christ, how is he this fucking gross?

Not wanting his hand too long between the greasy locks, he quickly concludes that there’s no blood and only a bump that’s starting to form on the spot of impact. 

He wipes his hand on his pants as he backs off and Benrey immediately slips the helmet back on, strapping the buckle under his chin again. 

“You’ll be fine, but when was the last time you took a fucking shower?”

Gordon scrunches up his nose to demonstrate exactly how bad he smells. 

“Uhh… barracks Black Mesa.”

He replies quickly with a shrug, making Gordon’s expression drop immediately. 

“Benrey- Benrey, that was… that was _months_ ago,”

The realization makes Gordon stare in horror. What the fuck has Benrey been up to between Black Mesa and this?

“You- you’re not sleeping on my couch like that, no fucking way. I don’t want your stink seeping into my cushions, FUCK no.” 

He gets up dramatically. 

“Get out. I’m cleaning up and then you’re taking a fucking shower. Jesus!” 

Benrey stares at him, looking a bit confused until he lights up again, a grin spreading across his entire face that reveals his freshly broken tooth. 

“Oh yo, I’m sleeping on the couch? Awesome…” 

Why Benrey was excited about sleeping on the fucking couch is a puzzle to Gordon, but he doesn’t have time nor does he really care enough to ask him any further about it. 

He pushes Benrey out the door so he has space to clean up, leaving the door wide open so he can watch him, making sure he doesn’t wander deeper within his apartment without him. 

“Stay there.” 

He orders sternly, in which Benrey responds by sitting down on the floor on the other side of the door, watching Gordon through half lidded eyes. 

It takes a bit of effort to wipe off all of the blood, but he manages to finally get all of the red off of his floor and bathtub with a cold soaked towel. 

Picking up the tooth sends a shiver through him, reminding him of his recent dreams.   
He eyes it for a bit before placing it in a little cup next to the sink. He’s not sure why he doesn’t just throw it out, but oh well. He can get rid of it later. 

After looking over the room and making sure everything is where it’s supposed to be and clear of any stains, Gordon dusts his hands off metaphorically and returns to Benrey, who’s still watching him with a disinterested eye. 

“Alright. It should be ready-“ 

Gordon cuts himself off as he looks Benrey over. 

“You got… clean clothes?”

Making sure another person gets a shower is a lot more work than Gordon had previously accounted for. Of course Benrey doesn’t have clean clothes, fucking look at him!

“Uh, my uniform’s under this,”

He pulls up the hoodie to reveal the security vest underneath. 

“I got cold and bought it.”

Gordon grimaces as he realizes that Benrey probably has been living on the street for months. Jesus Christ. 

“Bought? That reminds me- Where did you get money for those groceries? I _know_ it was you at the store,”

He points an accusing finger down at Benrey, like a parent scolding their kid. 

“I had a job, dude, you think I worked for free? Nah, uhh… gotta- gotta get paid for the stuff you’re good at,” 

Scoffing at the implication that Benrey was ‘good’ at his job as a security guard, Gordon steps over him to open his closet. 

Benrey follows him intently with his eyes as a grey sweater, black sweatpants, a white pair of socks and a black pair of underwear gets thrown at him.   
When Gordon finally turns back from the closet, he’s holding up the underwear pinched between two fingers, like it’s dirty, with a frown on his face. 

“ ‘M not wearing your tighty whities,” 

“What? They’re not even tighty whities- Whatever, do what you want.” 

Gordon huffs as he nudges him off the floor with his foot. 

“Just go shower.”

“Alright, fuckin’ get your Feetman feet off of me, gross man,” 

He cackles, stumbling through the door with Gordon’s clothes bundled in his arms. 

“Uh, ssshhower timee,” 

The words leave him in a whistle while he eyes the shower head like he’s expecting it to turn on by itself. 

“You- you do know how to operate a shower, right?”

The fear of having to _bathe_ another grown man starts to creep up on Gordon. He is NOT doing that. 

“Yah, I know how to do it,”

His tone is flat like usual, but he still doesn’t take his eyes off of the shower. 

“Alright dude, good luck.” 

Gordon mumbles suspiciously as he closes the bathroom door to give Benrey his privacy.   
Though, he stays where he is. 

Is that weird? Is that a creep thing to do? Staying on the other side of the door while another adult man takes a shower?  
It definitely _feels_ weird, but he can’t get himself to leave the door. He doesn’t want Benrey to be unsupervised in _his_ apartment. Gordon’s homebase. Safe space. 

His thoughts get interrupted when he finally hears the water turn on after a bit of shuffling and the sound of heavy clothes hitting the floor. 

And soon after that Gordon jolts as a _screech_ from the other side of the door pierces his ears. 

Without thinking, his body reacting to the sound on its own, he throws open the door and barges into the room. 

And then he freezes in the doorframe when he’s met by the sight of a dripping wet _naked_ Benrey. 

“Whuh…”

Is the only sound that escapes the startled guard as Gordon and Benrey stare at each other. Both with eyes wide and mouth agape. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit longer wow ! almost twice as long... don't get too used to it, i still have no idea what the hell i'm doing
> 
> This chapter is based off of an rp i had with a friend, so if you're reading this and it looks familiar ... i am very sorry, it'll get more original from now on (maybe)
> 
> also here's what gordon's fidget toy looks like! i ordered one a week ago and i cannot wait to get my sweaty hands on it https://images-na.ssl-images-amazon.com/images/I/81TJBtdGISL._AC_SL1500_.jpg


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